Troy & the Nerd
by xoambieeox
Summary: Everyone heard that Troy the most popular guy at East asked me the least popular girl to the dance. And everyone heard I turned him down. So suddenly, I've gone from a nobody to a girl of mystery overnight. No one it seems has ever turned Troy down.
1. Chapter 1

Troy & The Nerd 

Summary- Troy Bolton, the most popular at East High and captain of the basketball team, takes a dare to show that he doesn't care what people think about him. So Chad,his best friend, dares him to take Gabriella Montez, the school's biggest nerd to the dance. What will happen?

Preview Chad & Troy talking.  
'Troy, you can say that all you want but everyone knows that you can what people think of you.'

"No Chad I don't."

"Fine I dare you to prove it."

"Alright what do I get when I win."

"We'll figure something out but in the mean time. You have to take Gabriella Montez to the school dance."

"Gabriella! Are you serious dude? She's like the weirdest girl in our grade."

"I thought you didn't care Troy."

"I don't. I just didn't think you would pick her."

"Let the games begin."

Another preview Troy & Gabriella talking.

"Listen Gabriella I figured you didn't have a date to the dance so I took it upon myself to take you"

"Wow your so funny Bolton, now how about you move out of my way and go on your way"

"I'm not kidding"

"Wow you're serious? Then there's something wrong with you because there is no way that I'm going to that dance with you."

I own nothing but the plot & that was inspired by a book.  
Let me know if it looks good. If not tell me too cause i won't continue it.


	2. Troy

I own none of it.

Chapter One

Troy.

I rewrote this chapter. I was unhappy with the way the first one came out. So here it is.

Cafeteria food was the most uncool thing on the planet. Half the time I wasn't even sure what I was moving around on the tray. But food wasn't what drew me to the cafeteria at East High every lunch period. It was my loyalty to my friends, Chad Dansforth and Zeke Baylor, who were sitting across from me attacking their fries.

Chad had recently had his off-campus lunch privilege suspended because he'd parked in the Teacher of the Year's reserved slot. I personally thought the punishment was a little harsh. After all, the teacher had been out sick that day and wasn't even using the space.

Anyways, thanks to Chad using the teacher's spot, we were slumming in the cafeteria-and would be for an entire month.

"Hey, Troy, don't look so bummed," Chad told me, moving some of his bushy hair out of his eyes so he could see his friends, which were totally soggy. Some of 'em were even still frozen in the middle. "We only have three weeks left of eating in the dungeon"

I shoved my tray aside, thinking that eating that stuff could make a person seriously ill. "I'm not bummed. Just thinking," I said which was true. "I can't decide who to ask to the dance on Saturday"

East High's semi formal was all anyone was talking about these days.

"Dude, just snap your fingers at the next girl you pass," Zeke suggested before he shoved some thing that looked like orange worms, but was probably macaroni and cheese, into his mouth.

I rolled my eyes and responded half jokingly, "I can't choose lightly. The girl who goes to the dance with who will make a statement about my taste in women"

More for me then my fellow classmates. I didn't want to take just any girl to the dance. And okay, I'm just gonna say this outright even if you think I'm a totally conceited jerk. Any girl I'd ask would say yes. Any girl. I'm serious. Girls at East High like me. Really like me. I felt their eyes follow me where ever I went. Watching, waiting for me to dart a glance their way. And when i did-bam! They always gave me a hundred-megawatt smile like I'd just flipped on the switch that provided the electricity that ran through their hearts.

Troy Bolton, aka me, god of East High. It was crazy.

It had been this way for as long as I could remember. The reason mostly had to do with the way I looked- "Adonis," a lot of the girls said- and the way I acted, like I absolutely didn't care one way or the other about anything or anyone. It was an absolute turn-on for babes, and it earned me the admiration of every guy who darkened that halls of East High.

Why was it so cool to act like you didn't care about anyone or anything? I didn't get it. But it had worked out for me so long that I sorta just adopted it as me a long time ago. I wouldn't even know how to be any different. Anyway, why would I want to be? Being this way got me everything a guy in high school could need.  
Expect the girl of my dreams. Not that I knew who that was. So who was I supposed to ask to the dance? It was Monday, and the dance was this Saturday. I had to get moving.

The problem was that I really couldn't decide. There wasn't a girl at East with whom I truly wanted to spend a whole evening. Again, I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but I couldn't drum up enough enthusiasm about someone who was into me just because she thought I was cool or good looking.

As my buds were stuffing their faces with inedible food, I looked around the caf and found some girls checking me out and some totally staring, but I was very aware that no one really knew me. I mean, they all knew the outer yeah-I've-got-attitude Troy, but no one knew the guy underneath that layer of attitude. And I thought, hoped, that guy was a pretty good person.

But like I said, no one knew him. And the truth was sometimes I wasn't even sure I did either. You know?

"Well, you'd better make up your mind fast, buddy," Chad said, "A lot of guys are bummed out about the fact that the hottest girls are holding themselves open just in case you ask them. Why do you think Zeke and I are going stag"

Oh, man. Why did all those girls want to go to the dance with me? So they could walk in with a guy everyone thought was cool and popular? How did they even know they'd like me once they spent five minutes in my supposedly desirable presence?

"You know what, man?" I began. "I wish I could ask some geek who doesn't even know who I am"

"Excuse me?" Zeke said, raking his hand over the top of his head, his brown eyes wide on me. "Why would a geek not know who you are? Everyone knows who you are"

"Yeah, I guess." I stared at my plate. Too bad. It would be truly cool to spend time with a girl who didn't know that I ruled East High, someone who saw something beyond that attitude, looks, and popularity. Someone who wasn't interested in any of that stuff, like the kinds of girls who actually got into dissecting frogs or their math homework. I'd never even spoken to a girl like that before, And that type of girl didn't even notice guys, right? I mean, they were into reading the Canterbury Tales and entering science fairs. Guys and parties weren't their thing. that's the kind of girl I wanted to take to the dance. Someone who didn't even know I was alive, someone who'd actually want to know what I thought about stuff.

"Anyway, who are you kidding?" Chad said polishing of his Coke. "No way would you ask a geekizoid to the dance"

"Yeah," Zeke agreed, popping a fry into his mouth. "Even you care about what people think. You'd never ask some science-fair nerd"

Was that true?

I didn't think so. But was it?

Nah. Definitely not true. "I don't care what anyone thinks," I insisted.

Chad and Zeke both snorted.

"I don't," I repeated. "Why would I? My reputation around here would let me get away with just about anything"

Sometimes I really believed that. My friends did too, apparently, because they nodded.

"If I asked the geekiest, nerdiest, least-cool girl in this school," I added, "I'll bet everyone would think it was my detention or something or that I was doing something charitable. So it doesn't even matter that I don't care what people think because they'd think better of me anyway. But I don't care what people think, so this whole conversation is stupid." I slurped my Coke and looked around the caf to let them know the subject was closed. My friends eyed me, then each other, then looked back to me with evil smiles.

Evil smiles means trouble.

"Prove it," Zeke challenged, leaning forward as if he was on the verge of imparting some wisdom that would better my life. "Prove you don't care what people think. I dare you to take the geekiest girl at East High to the dance"

I raised an eyebrow. "You dare me? What is this, second grade? Gimme a break, guys"

"We dare you," Chad put in.

I shook my head and laughed, then stole the one crisp fry off Chad's plate.

Chad grabbed my wrist. "So? Do you accept or not"

I shook my wrist free and ate the fry. "Don't tell me your serious"

They both fold their arms across their chests and looked at me. "Oh we're serious," Zeke said, his brown eyes way too gleeful. "We dare you to ask a geek to the semi formal. There. You've been dared. Will you accept and admit that you care what people around here think"  
There was no way I couldn't accept. First of all, I didn't care what people thought. Second, asking a geekette to the dance would be a totally cool thing to do, a nice thing to do. A geek would no doubt be utterly and completely grateful. I'd be giving her a few hours in the inner circle, entry into the crowd she'd never ever be permitted to walk next to in the hallway.

Just like in the The Nutty Professor. Eddie Murphy had been giving a chance to know what it was to be a total babe magnet. So for one night I would make some geekizoid's fantasy come true. If geeks even had fantasies-other then winning the Westinghouse.

Okay, So the whole idea bordered on being a little mean-spitted. All right, it was a lot mean-spitted. but my friends had made me wonder about something: Was I really above my reputation? Was I cool enough not to care what people thought by asking a totally not-hot girl to the dance? Not even a not-hot girl. A total nerd.

Yeah. Of course, I was cool enough. Absolutely. Right?

Chad and Zeke raised their eyebrows because I seemed to be stalling-Which I was. I was not in the habit of lightly accepting dares. I had a reputation to maintain.

"So you do care what people think," Zeke concluded, smirking. "Very uncool"

"I don't care what anyone thinks," I said for the hundredth time.

"Then take the dare," Chad challenged me.

I sighed. "All right, I will. Besides, accepting the dare will save me the hassle of deciding which girl to ask." Brilliant rationale. "So pick her out for me, and I'll ask her"

Putting their heads together, they whispered conspiratorially. I could see their gazes daring around the cafeteria like a fly at a picnic unable to decided which dessert to land on.

I began to relax. I mean, how awful could this be? It wasn't as if we had a female version of the hunchback of Not re Dame walking the halls of our school. Did we? Oh God. 

Maybe I'd just never noticed her before. I mean, why would I?

"You have to ask her publicly," Chad said. "Everyone has to know that you're taking the geek to the dance"

I shrugged nonchalantly, trying not to care, wondering why I had to try. I had accepted the dare because I didn't care. It was an easy dare. "No problem"

A triumphant gleam sparkled in Chad's brown eyes. He looked at Zeke. Zeke nodded. My stomach clenched as my mind heard this thundering drum roll. I held my breathe, waiting for the opening of the envelope. . . 

"Gabriella Monte," Chad announced with a jubilant grin.

Gabriella Monte? My jaw dropped.

They totally cracked up, cackling so hard that I thought they might actually start holding their stomachs and rolling on the floor. Chad knocked his fist against Zeke's. They had succeeded in totally bumming me out with their choice. I mean, really, could they have picked anyone worse?

When I thought of Gabriella, I had a vision of an alien with a really huge brain- like the ones in the old black-and-white sci-fi movies. Not that Gabriella had a funny-looking head. It was just that she was beyond super smart. I didn't know how she managed to cram all that intelligence into her head. She was enrolled in honors classes. When she was a freshman, she'd probably been disappointed that we didn't have honors phys ed. It Gabriella's vocabulary cool only applied to temperature, not attitude.

"She's over there." Zeke chortled, pointing behind me.

Hesitantly I glanced over my shoulder and instantly spotted Gabriella. She was the queen of shy. She sat at a table alone, writing in a notebook while she ate. Only an absolute geek would do schoolwork during lunch. She wore thick glasses. I knew I shouldn't judge the glasses harshly. After all, we didn't have much say in how good our vision was, but those clothes. . .dork city. Baggy, loose fitting. Her body probably got lost in them. Of course, if it did, it could find its way back easily enough because of the bright yellow and green would serve as a homing beacon.

For someone who usually blended in with the lockers, today she stood out like a neon sign. Probably the reason she'd captured Chad and Zeke's attention. Her good fortune was my bad luck.

Ah, man, I figured she'd come close to fainting when I asked her out. Girls like her probably didn't even dare to dream about guys at all. Did I sound like a jerk? I just figured that's the way it was. Getting her to accept would be a breeze. The hard part, however, would be pretending that I wasn't totally embarrassed to her to be my date.  
Oops. Embarrassed. Did that mean that I did care what people thought or that I cared what I thought? I wasn't exactly sure. Somewhere between the time the dare had been issued and the choice of the "geek" made, my thought processes had gotten convoluted.

But a dare was a dare, and it would be infinitely more embarrassing to back out. "Go on, go ask her," Zeke goaded.

I turned back around and faced them. Suddenly my lunch looked considerably more appetizing than fulfilling the dare. "What's the rush? No one else will ask her, and she definitely won't say no"

Chad eyed me, his brown eyes twinkling. "You care what people think. You can't deal with asking her in front of everybody"

I pointed at him with a french fry. "I've already told you that I don't"

"Then ask her now," Zeke added.

Ask her now. Sure.

I stood up. I felt eyes on me as usual. For once it would be great if no one noticed I existed, if no one followed my every move. Every girl in the caf would see me go up to Gabriella Monte and ask her to the dance. Every girl!

Oh, man.

A few months ago the local news station did some feature about teenagers and who they'd want to be stranded with on a desert island. A lot of girls said me, which I found pretty embarrassing, but my dad got a kick out of it. Gabriella's answer had been Mother Teresa. I only remember that because my dad had commented on it. He'd said that was a good and surprising answer for a teenage girl.

Mother Teresa. Not Freddie Prince, Jr. or Justin Timberlake, or even yours truly, Troy Bolton. She wanted to be stranded with a person who had dedicated her life to good deeds. Not that her choice was a bad one. It's just that I figured if you were asked a fantasy question, you ought to provide a fantasy answer. Then again, Mother Teresa had passed away, so I guess it would be fantasy.

And here I was, about to gift her with one amazing fantasy come to life: an actual date with Troy Bolton. I had to get over myself.

I stopped in front of Gabriella's table just as she was standing. There were a few people sitting at the other end, but otherwise she'd clearly eaten lunch by herself. I didn't think I'd ever done that.

I looked her over. Had I ever noticed how tiny she was? Did the top of her head reach my shoulders? Not that it mattered. The one thing Zeke and Chad hadn't stipulated, thank goodness, was that I had to dance a slow dance with her. If I danced with her at all, it would be something fast. As if she were a puppet whose string had suddenly gotten yanked, she jerked. Behind the thick lenses of her glasses she blinked her dark almond shaped eyes rapidly as if she'd just noticed me standing there and wondered where I'd come from I searched my brain for something to say to a girl like her. I never initiated conversation with girls. I just responded to it when the mood struck. Most girls were content just to ramble on whether I commented or not.

This was totally weird to stand before a girl who wasn't smiling brightly and look around for some sorry of support before he legs gave out beneath her. I cleared my throat. Just ask the question. Get it over with. I turned around and saw Chad and Zeke gawking at me, their hands trained to their ears to exaggerate that they were listening. I turned back around. Gabriella wasn't even looking at me. She was cleaning the crumbs off the table onto the tray. Only a geekizoid would clean up after herself.

"Gabriella?" I began.

She glanced at me with a confused expression, then returned her attention to the crumbs, which she was sliding onto her tray with the help of the side of her hand.

Huh? Crumbs were more interesting than finding out what I, Troy Bolton, could possibly want?

I cleared my throat. "Um, Gabriella, I've decided to take you to the dance on Saturday"

She froze for a second. "Sorry," she said, her eyes still on the crumbs. "But, uh, thanks." And then she turned and walked away.

I stared stupidly at her quickly retreating back. Sorry? Had I heard her right? How could she possibly say no? It didn't make any sense.

Sorry, but thanks.

I didn't get it. Did she mean she wasn't interested in the dance or not interested in me? Had to be the former, right?

I felt eyes on me. The girls sitting at the far end of Gabriella's table were staring at me, their jaws dropped. In fact, so were most of the people sitting at the tables around where I stood.

Oh, man. I wanted to suddenly announce that it had been a joke, just a dare, ha ha. But Zeke and Chad were suddenly at my side.

"What were her exact words, dude? Was she, like, totally blown away?" Chad asked.

"Uh, yeah, I think she was," I said. What else could explain Gabriella's answer? "In fact, she took off so fast that we didn't get the details down, so I've gotta go find her. Later, dudes"

I shouldered my way past them and headed out of the cafeteria, running Gabriella's strange response through my mind. Sorry, but thanks. Why?

Then it dawned on me. She obviously didn't realize I was serious That had to be the problem. She'd been so shocked by my request that she'd reacted without thinking.

Because no girl, in the history of East High, had ever before turned down an invitation from Troy Bolton

I know it's very different then the original but I felt it needed to be better. This took me almost a week to write. I hope to have the next chapter up within two weeks. It will be from Gabriella's point of view.


	3. Gabriella

Authors Note: This took me awhile to get out. I just couldn't seem to get it right. Keep in mind i've decided to have Gabriella live with her Grandmother. She calls her mama ling. Not exactly sure where the influence came from but I call my grandmother Mama so maybe that's where. Anyway enough of my blabber. Onto the story. Thank you to all those who review my story and added it on their alert list.

Chapter Two.

Gabriella.

As I hurried down the hallway to my locker, I was in shock. Total, complete shock. I absolutely couldn't believe that Troy Bolton had asked me to go to the dance.

I mean, a guy like Troy Bolton absolutely doesn't ask out girls like me. The shyest, quietest girl in school.

Not that I don't have friends. Although he might have drawn that conclusion when he saw me sitting alone during lunch. I was fairly certain that he hadn't paid much attention to my social habits before today. So he wouldn't know that I ate lunch with Taylor McKessie and Ryan Evans.

But Taylor had an orthodontist appointment during lunch, and I had no idea why Ryan hadn't met me in the cafeteria. Not that meat-loaf surprise was a big draw, but since none of us has cars. . . we don't have the luxury of experiencing off-campus lunch.

My heart was still pounding when I opened my locker to get my books from chemistry class. Why would Troy ask me to the dance? It made no sense. I wasn't in his crowd, I wasn't the cheerleader type, and it wasn't as if we were buds and he just happened to notice I was cute or something.

Which I wasn't. Well, not in the Mena Suvari, Tara Reid, Alyssa Milano way. I was sorta plain and wore glasses and boring clothes. Makeup and fashion just weren't big interests of mine.

Jason Cross was. President of the chess club and the computer club. Just the thought of seeing him in my next class made my heart do this funny little thump. I'd been crushing on him for a little over a year now, even thought I'd never actually spoken to him. I just admired him from afar. I sighed with frustration. I wished that I could get up the courage to talk to him, just once, just a few words

Hey, Jason . . . loved the report you did on the dangers of radiation.

Ah, Gabriella . . .mine wasn't half as impressive as yours on nuclear fusion. I'd love to get together with you some time after school and discuss your research methods.

Yeah, that was the great beginning to an intense conversation that was never going to take place.

I closed my locker, turned, and shrieked. My heart was thundering so hard that they could have used it in the marching band. Troy stood there; leaning against someone else's locker in a way that hinted he had nothing better to do. Like getting to class was not on the top of his priority list.

He was so incredibly hot that I actually found it difficult to keep looking at him. I mean, he was movie-star hot. dark features that hinted at mysterious past. Blue eyes that he kept partially hidden behind lowered lashes so you were always wondering what he thought. He never revealed anything about himself.

So many rumors flew around the school about Troy that you never knew what was true and what wasn't. A different girl every night. Cutting classes. Detention at least three times a week.

Troy Bolton might be every girl's dream at East High, but he'd never been mine. Yeah, he was amazing looking. he looked like he belonged on a motorcycle. But whatever it was that guys like Troy Bolton talked about, I was sure it wasn't anything that I talked about. I mean, what would we possibly have to say to each other? I doubted that Troy was into nuclear fusion. And I knew that I wasn't into cutting school and drinking beer and talking about cars or girls or whatever guys likeTroy talked about

What did guys like Troy talk about? Did they talk?

"It occurred to me," Troy suddenly murmured in a low voice as if he feared someone other then me might hear him, "that you probably didn't realize I was serious about us going to the dance together."

Huh? So he had been serious? Why? I normally wasn't slow on the uptake. My brain was having a total meltdown as he studied me with those blue eyes of his. I was having a hard time figuring out how to respond.

Besides, I was going to be late for class, and I'd never been late to class. It was sort of a pride thing with me. No absences, no tardies. Ever. but I couldn't seem to make my brain engage my mouth, and when I finally spoke, all that came out was a quiet, "Oh."

He stared at me for a second, those incredible eyes a bit confused. "So we're going to the dance," He said. "Right?"

My brain still refused to kick into hear. This whole experience was too weird. Like finding yourself cast in the Blair Witch III.

I wrinkled up my face in total confusion, but it didn't help me think any more clearly. "Uh, sorry, I can't," I managed to push out of my mouth before I rushed past him so I could get to chemistry class and Jason.

I practically flew into the classroom and took my seat. I glanced at my watch. Fifty-five seconds to spare. I cast a furtive glance at Jason, two seats down, one over. he was opening his notebook. He did it so precisely. Like a surgeon. Then he withdrew a pencil from his shirt pocket. he poised his pencil over the blank paper. anticipating the taking of notes. I understood that euphoria. Filtering the words of a teacher's lecture, capturing the key phrases on paper. . .

If only Jason Cross would ask me to the dance!

"What's this I hear about you and Troy Bolton?"

I twisted around with a jerk. Taylor was sitting at the desk beside me. I'd been so absorbed in watching Jason that I hadn't heard her arrive.

I turned red. "What did you hear?"

My best friend-well, best female friend-stared at me like I was from Mars. "Gabi! There's a rumor flying around school that Troy asked you to the dance. It was the first thing I heard the second I got back from my orthodontist appointment. So what are you gonna wear? We have to go shopping! I'm thinking pale pink with a net shawl and . . ."

I loved Taylor. Who else would (a) believe he'd really asked me and (b) assume I said yes and was planning my outfit?

I groaned. "Is there really a rumor going around school?" I asked like an idiot. Anything to do with Troy was news. Some girls who wanted to his attention had designed a Web site devoted to him. Not that I'd ever typed in the URL that would take me to see it. But it was a well-established fact that it existed.

"So it's just a rumor?" Taylor asked. "Everyone's buzzing about it, so I figured it had to be true."

Everyone?

"It's not a rumor," I confessed. "He asked, and, um, I told him no."

Her eyes widened, and she clutched my arm as if she needed a hold on reality. "Wait a minute. I had no idea you even knew him."

"Me either," I whispered. "It was so weird. Totally out of the blue. I couldn't figure it out. He asked me in the cafeteria, I said no, and then a few minutes ago he told me he thought I thought he wasn't serious. And he asked me again! So I told him no . . . again. I'm sure he wasn't serious. It must be some sorta joke."

"Get over yourself, girl," Taylor said. "Your ego is way too big"

I smiled at her joke. "Why else would he ask?"

"Because he likes you!" Taylor replied.

I almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, right. And aliens really go to high school in Roswell."

"He could like you," Taylor insisted.

"Best friends are supposed to say that," I reminded her.

Just as the bell rand, Ryan dropped in the chair beside me. He flinched. He hated being late to class too.

"Where were you during lunch?" I leaned over and whispered while Mr. Griffin began taking roll.

Ryan's cheeks were bright red. "I was in the library, doing my chemistry homework."

I narrowed my eyes. I'd known Ryan forever, and I knew he was as diligent as I was when it came to getting his homework done. No way would he leave an assignment until he last minute.

"Did someone take your homework again?" I demanded. Ryan was always getting picked on by guys at school, guys like Troy. Well, not Troy exactly, but guys in his crowd. Jerks who thought they were so cool that rules and regulations didn't apply to them.

Ryan's face burned a brighter red as he nodded. "but don't worry about it. I remembered the answers, so it was no big deal to redo my homework."

"But you shouldn't have to redo your homework, " I insisted. "Who took it?"

He shook his head.

"Come on, Ryan, tell me who stole your homework. I mean, that's where we're talking about here theft."

Firmly pressing his lips together, he averted his gaze and opened his chemistry book. I knew I"d never pry the name of the culprit from him now. I figured he had some pride.

Mr. Griffin started talking about molecules coming together to form different chemicals. I glanced over at Jason, who was taking notes.

Now, there was a true dream guy.

Jason was incredibly perfect. Unlike Troy, who only wore black t-shirts, Troy wore different colored shirts each day. He had dark hair that kept falling over his brow, and he'd swipe it back like he was seriously irritated with it. I figured it interfered with his note taking ability.

And he had the brownest eyes under his glasses. But what impressed me the most was that he always knew the correct answer, always raised his hand. Math, chemistry, English. He was a whiz at everything. A total genius.

I could imagine that a conversation with him would be so totally engrossing. HE probably knew facts about things that I'd never dared contemplate. To having an evening with Jason, talking about-well, just about anything-would be the ultimate.

It was funny. Ask any girl at East who would be her ultimate date, and she'd say Troy Bolton. I was the only one who'd say Jason Cross. And Troy's the one who asked me out!

Something had to be up.

By the end of the day I was almost famous. I'd gone from invisible nerd to Gabriella of a thousand friends. Well, a thousand schoolmates. Suddenly everyone knew my name. I was the girl who turned down a date to the dance with Troy Bolton. People who never acknowledged my presence were now nodding to me in the hallways. I'd never gotten so many "hey, Gabriella's" in one day in my life.

WIth my backpack slung over my shoulder, I headed for the bus. Today was certainly one for the record books. I still had no idea why Troy wanted to go to the dance with me. All I knew was that I was more then an little suspicious.

Or was Taylor right? Was it possibly that he noticed me and thought I was cute? Or that I was smart and nice?

Yeah, right. Troy Bolton didn't notice stuff like smart and nice.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Troy was walking beside me. I almost tripped over my feet.

"Hey, Gabriella," He said from that perfect, red mouth. "I'll give you a ride home."

I glanced at him, then down to my loafers. What was going on? Little alarm bells went off in my head. Normally I wasn't by nature a suspicious person, but his attention was too weird. There was absolutely no way the guy really liked me. No matter what Taylor might think. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that scenario, that he actually liked me, not for one single second-and I wasn't stupid enough for Troy in the first place.

He had a reputation for being attracted to girls who thought that brains were simply stuffed inside your skull so your head could keep its shape. Cute, hot, and dumb, that was his usual type.

Besides, he made me feel like the total geek I was. I mean, he never had a sandy hair out of place. Had never worn braces but his teeth were perfectly straight. Didn't wear glasses. A zit had never dared appear on his face. He was never slumped over with the weight of a backpack on his shoulders. Did the guy ever engage in the activity of homework?

Add to that the fact that I didn't want anything to do with the type of guy who would pick on Ryan, and I had more then enough reasons to avoid Troy. ANd how did I explain all my well thought out conclusion to him?

Since my voice box seemed to be malfunctioning, I pointed at the bus and ran for it.

When I finally found an empty seat that I could sling myself into, I dared to gaze out the window, Troy stood there, hands on his hips, looking like he'd just encountered someone who'd escaped from an insane asylum.

Well at least I wouldn't have to worry about him talking to me anymore.

Walking through the front door, I immediately smelled the aroma of sweet-and-sour sauce wafting out of the kitchen. My grandmother was cooking dinner along with her afternoon batch of cookies.

I pulled my notebook out of my backpack which I dropped by the door, and headed into the kitchen. My grandmother turned away from the oven and gave me a big smile. "Gabby!"

She hugged me like she hadn't seen me in years, when she'd seen me that morning before I left for school. Mama ling was my mom's mother. Everyone in town called her Mama Ling. She had moved in with me five years ago after my mother and grandfather had died in a car accident.

She missed him so much for a while all she did was sit in a chair and stare out the window or as she'd put it, she watched her memories.

"You talk in such cute phrases," I'd told her back then. "I always think of fortune cookies when you speak."

And that's how Mama Ling's Fortune Cookies got started. She'd taken a course at the community college and learned calligraphy. Which I thought was totally awesome. I mean, my grandmother being a college student. It just proved a person was never too old to do anything she wanted to.

Then she'd started writing her quaint little phrases on tiny slips of paper. She would bake cookies and slip the fortune inside. She only supplied a couple of Chinese restaurants in town, but a lot of people collected her fortunes. Each one was unique.

I kept all her little sayings in a database on my computer. I was constantly amazed that she never repeated herself. She said coming up with her sayings kept her mind sharp.

"Did you have a good day at school?" she asked, her dark eyes bright with love. My granddad had met her when he was in the navy and stationed in the Pacific. She still had a slight accent that Ryan and Taylor found absolutely charming. So did I.

There was something so amazingly warm about being loved and accepted for who you were. Here within my house I was Gabby, granddaughter. Not Gabriella the geek.

"I had an interesting day," I assured her as I sat on a stool at the counter. "I had some time to myself during lunch to write fortunes since Taylor had an orthodontist appointment and Ryan was in the library." I opened my notebook. "See which ones you like."

She climbed onto the stool and furrowed her brow. "So if Taylor and Ryan are busy, you eat alone?"

"Yeah."

"But you have lots of friends," she insisted.

I really didn't want to get into a discussion of my social life or my stunningly nonexistent popularity. I shrugged. "I wanted to work on the fortunes. Some ideas came to me, and I had an incredible urge to write them down before I forgot them."

She grinned at that explanation. "Ah, that I understand completely. To give birth to a phrase is joy."

I smiled. She always talked like she was writing out fortunes. Maybe that was the reason she was able to come up with so many. She'd had a lifetime to collect wise sayings.

I slid the notebook toward her. "So tell me what you think."

She peered through the half-moon glasses that sat perched on the brdge of her nose. MY hands grew damp while I watched her read my words. It was kind of nerve-racking, wondering what she thought, wondering if she liked any of them.

It was a little like wondering what Jason might say if I ever got up the courage to talk to him. As a matter of fact, that was probably the reason I didn't talk to him. I was afraid he'd find my conversation totally lame.

Probably as lame as Troy found it. he was no doubt still standing there, staring at where the bus had been and wondering what was wrong with Gabriella Montez that she couldn't form a sentence that made any sense. Like I cared what he thought anyway.

I didn't, did I?

"Ah, very good," Mama Ling said after what seemed like an hour but was really only a couple of minutes. She touched my notebook. "I like this one. 'She who dreams can touch the stars.'"

I scrunched up my face. "You don't think it's dumb? I mean, you can't really touch the stars. I wanted it to be metaphorical and sorta deep, but not too deep."

"It is perfect," She assured me, squeezing my hand. "Just like you. I will use it."

"Cool!" I exclaimed. Using that word reminded me of my strange encounters with East's Mr. Cool. I furrowed my brow.

"Deep furrows mean deep troubles. What's wrong?" Mama Ling asked softly.

How did I explain this situation to my grandmother when I couldn't even explain it to myself? I twisted on the stool until I faced her. "There's this totally cool guy at school. Troy."

"Troy is a good name. What's he like?" she interrupted.

A question that I knew would be impossible to answer since she apparently didn't know what I meant by cool. How could I describe Troy?

"Well," I began, gnawing on my lip. "He's the guy every girl dreams about. Really gorgeous, with these amazing blue eyes and sandy brown hair, and he only wears black, and when he walks down the halls at school, everyone parts and watches him. He rules East High."

Mama Ling laughed lightly. "But what is he like?" She questioned, tapping her chest. "In here?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Oh, I haven't a clue. I haven't actually spoken to him except for today." That was a major exaggeration. I'm not sure stammering truly qualified as speaking.

"But you said he was cool," she reminded me.

So she had registered my earlier description of him.

"What makes him so cool?" she demanded.

I was totally stumped. "The way he looks, for one thing," I said hesitantly. "The way he walks, like he owns the halls. Everyone knows him. That's cool.

"But those are things that you see, Gabby," she chided softly. "Those are outside things. What is on the inside of this Troy?"

Mama Ling was one of those people who believed beauty is only skin deep and you had to look below the surface. She was always telling me that I was still waters that ran deep. I really didn't understand what that meant. Troy, on the other hand, wasn't still. He was constantly walking around everywhere, getting stopped every second by people saying hi, especially girls. Which seemed kind of shallow to me. "He's busy waters that run shallow?" I guessed.

Mama Lind laughed at that. "I do not think you know him so well. But still you like him?"

"Oh no," I assured her. "I mean, I don't not like him. Like you pointed out, I don't really know him all that well. And he doesn't know me at all. And that's what makes what happened today so totally weird. He asked me to go to the dance with him this Saturday night."

My grandmother's face lit up like a Japanese lantern, all soft and muted. "I will give you a manicure," She announced.

"Oh no, I'm not going. I told him no."

"Why?" she asked, looking not only completely baffled but disappointed as well.

I was actually sorry that I didn't have a date for the dance. But if I was going to go with anyone, I wanted to go with Jason. And the chances of him asking me were as slim as . . . well, until this afternoon I would have said that they were as slim as Troy asking. Still, I didn't hold out any hope that Jason would suddenly go insane as well. "I said no to Troy because I couldn't figure out why someone from the 'cool' club would ask me out."

She tsked and rolled her eyes as if the answer was as obvious as the nose on my face. "Because you are very pretty and very, very interesting."

I realized that I should have seen that explanation coming. She was my grandmother, for goodness' sake. She was going to seem me as no one else did. Perfect in every way.

But me, I knew the truth. There was something fishy behind a cool guy asking a nerd to the dance. That was simply the way our school was. There were the cool kids and the nerds. Yeah, there were variations in between, but basically there were the two groups. Troy and I were in different ones.

As I watched Mama Ling remove her latest batch of fortune cookies from the oven, I wished that I had more courage. I wished that I had just asked Troy why. Why are you asking me to the dance?

But there was no way that I could force that many words out of my mouth when I was talking to any guy other then Ryan.

And maybe I didn't really want to know the truth. Didn't want to hear Troy Bolton, coolest of the cool, tell me that just as I had suspected, I was part of his be-kind-to-nerds personality-improvement project.

Thank you so much for reading. Please review it means alot to me to hear what you guys have to say.


	4. Troy 2

Chapter Three.

Author's note: This chapter really stumped me. I think because it's all just leading up to everything. I can't wait to get to all the drama chapters. Those are my favorite. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm hoping to get more this chapter.

I own nothing but the plot.

Troy.

"So it's true? Gabriella Montez? You asked Gabriella Montez to the dance?"

My ears were ringing as I looked up from my last slice of pepperoni pizza to see Angela, Lauren, and Megan, members of the East Highs cheer leading squad, wearing horrified expressions on their pretty faces. I was squeezed into a booth at the local pizza restaurant, Pizza Pie. Chad and Zeke were sitting across from me, looking so incredibly smug. The moment of truth had officially arrived. Did I care what these beautiful girls thought?

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry, the pizza I'd already eaten sitting on my stomach like a ten-pound barbell. I gave thema cocky girn. "Yeah."

"Why?" Megan asked. "Why Gabriella Montez? I mean, she's so . . . so not in your league."

I couldn't admit to accpeting a dare. That would sort of defeat my asking Gabriella to the dance in the first place. I leaned back slightly in the corner of the booth and rested my arm along its back, a totally uncaring pose. "She intrigues me."

That was actually true. My mind kept drifting to Gabriella and her strange reaction to my asking her to the dance. Why wasn't she interested? The million-dollar question. Unfortunately Regis wasn't standing before me, offering me a lifetime. I couldn't even poll the audience.

"She's such a brianiac," Laurne pointed out.

"Yeah," I admitted. But that couldn't be the reason she said no, I thought as if Lauren had tried to answer my question.

"So you two have absolutely nothing in common," Angela said.

Ouch! That hurt. I mean, I might not be enrolled in honors classes, but I'm no slouch in the smarts department. "We have alot in common," I protested.

"Like what?" Lauren asked.

Good question. I racked my brain, trying to think of one thing. In desperation I latched onto something that meant nothing. "We both go to East High."

The girls laughed in unison.

"So do I," Megan murmured. "You could have asked me."

I was beginning to wish I had. At least I knew she'd say yes. As a matter of fact, any of these girls would go with me if I just snapped my fingers. Only I couldn't snap my fingers because I'd told Chad and Zeke that Gabriella had agreed to be my date. As a totally dumb move on my part. If pride goeth before the fall, I was headed for a major splatter.

"We just don't get it," Angela mumbled as they walked away.

Neither did I. I simply couldn't figure out why Gabriella had responded as she had.

"The odd couple," Chad said once they were out of earshot. "That's what they're really thinking. You and Gabriella are going to be the oddest couple at the dance."

I couldn't aruge with that. If I could convince her to go to the dance with me.

What was really starting to get me, though, was the fact that Gabriella wouldn't only not go to the dance with me, she wouldn't even ride in a car with me! She'd declined my offer to give her a ride home this afternoon. She'd chosen a crowded, noisy, rattling bus over my smoothly driving black Mustang inside which Macy Gray would have been booming. Made no sense whatsoever.

When Chad and Zeke and I had arrived at the Pizza Pie, I'd hit the men's room to check myself out in the mirror. Still the same. I'd even grimaced in the mirror-spotted no cafeteria leftovers wedged between my teeth. So what could possibly be turned Gabriella off?

"What a riot that she was so freaked out when you first asked her that she said no," Zeke said, laughing. "Figures. What a geek."

"Yeah, good thing you tracked her down after school and let her know you were serious," Chad added. "She probably had to go home and lie down after."

I shifted on the bench as the guys cackled. Sometimes these guys were so immature. Then again, I wasn't exactly Mr. Maturity here either. After all, I hadn't fessed up to the fact that Gabriella hadn't exactly said yes. That she'd actually said no twice.

I thought about finishing off that last slice of pizza, but I wasn't sure my stomach would welcome it. I wasn't exactly nervous, just tied up with concerns. I had to prove myself with this dare.

"Did you notice how dorky she looked today? Chad inquired. "You know . . . when you were asking her to the dance? All those loose clothes. What's up with that?"

They both stuck their tongues out really far and mimicked those guys on the commercials who are always going, Wassup?

Man, how immature could they get? I knew hey were just razzing me in an attempt to make me worry about my image. I did the typical Troy-nodding-like-he's-paying-attention routine, but the truth was that I was barely listening. I had more pressing problem. How was I going to get Gabriella to say yes? To anything?

There was a reason that girl turned me down. And I was determined to find out what it was.

The next morning as I sauntered down the hallway with Chad and Zeke, I was beginning to think this dare was the stupidest one my buds had ever issued. I was no closer to figuring out how to get Gabriella to go to the dance with me. As a matter of fact, I was farther away from figuring it out. My original plan-ask her-had bombed. What should have been a walk in the park was turning into a climbing expedition to the top of Mount Everest.

"Hey, man, you gonna buy some geeky clothes to wear to the dance?" Zeke asked. "So you and Gabriella can match?"

Zeke had an irritation habit of picking up a conversation hours after you thought it had ended. It was like it took his mind a while to think of comebacks. But hey, he was my bud.

"Hey! Shrimp!" Chad suddenly yelled out of the blue.

I watching in stunned amazement as he shouldered past a couple of guys, grabbed a skinny dude's shirt, and started hauling him down the hallway.

"What's going on with Chad?" I asked.

"Oh, that's just that geek that Chad's got working for him. Come on," Zeke said, his eyes full of excitement.

He sounded like he was looking forward to something really fun happening. I couldn't imagine what, but I followed them into the janitor's closet anyway. Zeke closed the door behind us and locked it. Locked it? What was going on?

Chad hit the switch to turn on the light. Although calling the illumination that the bulb gave off "light" was really exaggerating. Shadows loomed around us. The closet reeked of ammonia and dirty mop water. I was wedged between Chad and Zeke. And the guy Chad had hauled in here was straddled over the mop bucket.

I recognized him now. I'd seen him eating lunch with Gabriella a couple of times. Ryan. He stuck me as someone who would hang out with Gabriella. He pushed his thick rimmed up the bridge of his nose every time they slid down, which was about two seconds after he pushed them up. And he seemed to swallow alot, like maybe his mouth was dry and he was searching for spit.

"Hand it over," Chad ordered.

Ryan's gaze darted between Zeke and me like maybe he thought we knew what was going down. I just stood there nodding, probably giving him the impression that I did. After all, it would be so totally not cool to admit that I didn't have a clue as to the reason that we'd had to dodge into this cramped smelly closet.

With a weary sigh Ryan slung his backpack off his shoulder, reached inside, pulled out some papers, and held them out. Probably detailed secret codes or tips that would allow Chad to beat Starcraft or some other video game. Chad and I had been friends since the first days of Zelda, and even back then he was always bugging me to find out how he could reach the next level.

Personally, I never understood why he bothered to play the game when he was always looking for someone to revel the mysteries. To me, the challenge was solving the game on my own. But I figured he was probably too anxious to see what the graphics at the next level looked like.

Chad snatched the papers from Ryan's hand. "Thanks, shrimp."

Zeke reached back, unlocked the door, and opened it just enough that they both could slip out. Which gave me a little more room to maneuver. This cloak-and-dagger stuff was really pretty amusing. Like Chad thought people would care about his lack of gaming skills. Then it hit me. That had to be it. He had a reputation for being tought. He probably didn't want to blow it by reveling that he couldn't master a video game.

Ryan started to brush past me, but I put my hand on his shoulder. He sorta hunched his shoulders like he thought I was going to punch him or something. Suddenly I felt like a jerk. I mean, this guy was half my size. And even if he wasn't, why would I want to hit him?

"Ryan right?" I asked him.

He just bobbed his hand like he was afraid that he might me giving me the wrong answer.

"Relax, dude, I just want to ask you a question, okay?

He straightened his shoulders, but he still looked like he was expecting something bad to happen.

"Why won't Gabriella go to the dance with me? I asked.

He looked as stunned as I had felt yesterday. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes got really big and round. I couldn't decided if he was shocked that I'd asked him a question at all or shocked that I'd asked him a question about a girl. Probably the latter.

Okay, so maybe the guy wasn't the brightest bunny in the burrow when it came to understanding girls. Even if the girl was his friend.

So much for that tatic. I wasn't making any progress with Gabriella at school. Maybe she felt like I owned this turf, and that put her off, made her wary or uncomfortable. I did kind of saunter around like I was the ruler of my domain. I decided that I needed to approach her on neutral territory. "What's she doing after school today?"

He squinted as if he only trusted me as far as he could throw me, and judging by how thin his arms were, that wouldn't be far. "Why do you want to know?"

"Duh! I asked her to the dance, and she said no, so I wanna find out why." I didn't think there was a whole lot of risk in confessing this fact to Ryan. It hadn't looked like him and Chad talked much even thought they were sharing video game secrets. I figured Chad like dragging him into the closet so he wouldn't ruin his reputation by having people see him talking to a class-A nerd.

Ryan started blinking the way Gabriella did, staring at me as if he thought I was nuts. Maybe I was. Any other girl at this school would have shouted on the school intercom system that I'd asked her to the dance. Here Gabriella had obviously not even told someone she ate lunch with everyday.

"So, dude," I prodded. "What's she doing after school?"

"Today we're doing our volunteer work for PAL at the animal shelter," he finally revealed cautiously.

I raised my brows. "PAL"

He gave me another what-an-idiot look. "Peer, Academics, Leadership."

"Right. I knew that." I really did. I just didn't pay much attention to the organization. After all, I had a life, and it didn't leave any room for club activities. "Thanks."

I opened the door and stepped out of the janitor's closet-right into the path of the girl of my nightmares. Gabriella.

I flashed her a grin and slung my arm around Ryan's shoulders. Course, he did that hunched-shoulder-drawing-his-head-in turtle imitation, which only made him shorter, so I had to lean over. A totally uncool stance.

But I figured it was worth it to earn a few points with her. I mean, after all, I was chumming up with her friend.

She glared at me, her dark eyes smoldering. "Give it back," she demanded.

In surprise at her outburst, I slid my arm off Ryan's shoulders and straightened. "What"

"Give it back now!" she insisted in a low threatening voice.

"Give what back?" I asked, totally stunned.

"He-He's not the one," Ryan stammered.

Huh? The one. What was going on here?

Grabbing his arm, she hurried him down the hall as if I had contracted Ebola virus and they needed to escape before I breathed on them. I wasn't accustomed to people wanting to get away from me. I stood there absolutely still for the longest time, trying to understand what was happening.

What had she wanted me to give back? Something obviously belonging to Ryan since he'd told her that I wasn't the one. The one?

Geeks. No wonder I didn't hang around them. They made no sense. Had their own secret code or something.

Shaking my head, I started sauntering down the hallway toward my first boring class of the day. I saw Chad opening the door to his locker.

The hairs on the back on my neck prickled as I thought about how intimidated Ryan had looked in the janitor's closet. I strode up to Chad. "Hey, what did you take from the nerd?"

Chad slammed his locker door closed and grinned cockily. "His chemistry homework."

That made no sense to me. Why did Chad want the little guy to get a zero in chemistry. "Why?

"Dude! My dad wants me to go to med school, so I gotta ace chemistry," he explained.

I nodded with understanding. "So you're comparing your answers against his?"

"No, man," Chad said in a voice that hinted my question was no cool and maybe I wasn't for asking. "I'm putting my name on his work and turning it in."

Not cool. I was on the verge of telling him that when it occurred to me that I'd sound just like my dad. Which would be as uncool was what Chad was doing.

Besides, it really wasn't my business, right?


	5. Gabriella 2

Chapter Four.

Author's note: I worked really hard to get this chapter out. I was kind of disappointed with the reviews. But thank you for all those who did review. Keep in mind nothing is like it was in High School Musical. Even Troy's dad is very different. I don't think he's been mentioned but in the next upcoming ones you'll see him.

Gabriella.

He who helps others might also help himself --Mama Ling

Resting my head against the car's backseat. I had to admit that I was about to enter into my favorite part of the week: working at the animal shelter. Volunteering was a sign of leadership, so everyone in the PAL program had to put in two hours of service a week. When I'd seen the list of acceptable places to donate my time, I hadn't hesitated. I knew the shelter would be the one place away from home where I would feel absolutely comfortable. Animals don't sit in judgement on people.

Unlike certain "cool" people at East High who would remain unmentioned in my thoughts.

I'd been totally excited when Taylor and Ryan had decided that was where they wanted to do volunteer work as well. We'd been best friends forever, and it just seemed appropriate that we'd be working with animals that were known as man's best friends.

Ryan always borrowed his mom's car on Tuesday so we could get to the shelter. Taylor sat in the front on the way, and I sat in the front when we were going home. Friends worked things out like that so everything was fair.

I liked sitting in the back first because it gave me a chance to unwind. I couldn't always hear the conversation going on in the front seat clearly, so I'd let my mind wander to pleasant thoughts of Jason.

He'd been able to recite the entire periodic table in chemistry today. I was so totally impressed. Not only because I could as well, but because I knew how difficult it was to memorize. I needed to excel in the sciences so I could pursue my interest in veterinary medicine. I wasn't sure what Jason wanted to major in when he went to college. I did know one thing, though. He wouldn't be a dropout. That role was reserved for Troy Bolton.

Ryan had been tight-lipped about the reason he'd been in the janitor's closet with Troy. I figured it was just male pride kicking in again. Honestly, guys can get their priorities out of the kilter sometimes. I was certain, however, that the closet experience had something to do with Ryan's incredible disappearing homework. Maybe Troy was the go-between. Life a Mafia hit man or something.

Ryan had said he wasn't the one responsible, but I couldn't help but feel that he was still somehow involved. I still couldn't believe that I'd gone postal in front of him. Had gone so far as to actually demand something of him.

The guy had looked totally shocked. No more shocked than I'd been. Before the anger had hit me, I'd thought he looked kinda cute standing there with his arm slung around Ryan. Troy was way taller then Ryan, and his shoulders were a lot broader, so they'd looked like a couple of mismatched bookends.

But then he'd flashed that smile of his, the one that looked like maybe he was hiding something. I couldn't quite figure it out. It was a gorgeous smile. I mean, everything about Troy was gorgeous. But the smile just didn't seem quite real.

Bang!

The loud, unexpected noise made both me and Taylor shriek.

"Hold on!" Ryan yelled as he struggled to bring the shaking car under control. We bounced along until he maneuvered it off the road and brought it to a halt.

Breathing heavily, he jerked his head around. He looked terrified. "Is everyone all right?"

Taylor and I both nodded vigorously.

"What happened?" I asked, my mouth dryer than sand.

"I think we've got a flat," he responded.

"Oh, great," Taylor said as she dropped her head. "In the middle of nowhere."

"It's not that bad, Taylor," I said. "He who looks for the bad things in life will only find the bad things."

She groaned. "Mama Ling would never come up with a fortune that lame."

I felt the heat burn my cheeks. I loved my grandmother's optimism. On her it seemed wise; on me it seemed naive.

Taylor twisted around in the seat. "I'm sorry. It's just that the shelter is on this country road, and no one is going to drive by to help us." She looked at Ryan. "How far will we have to walk?"

"We're about five miles away. But I know how to change a flat," he assured her.

"You do?" I asked, trying not to sound too amazing. Ryan wasn't exactly built for manual labor.

"Sure. Didn't they teach you in driver's ed?" he asked.

"They showed us in driver's ed," Taylor explained. "That's not the same thing as learning how to do it."

He pulled the keys out of the ignition. "It'll be a snap."

We clambered out of the car and trudged to the back. A rear tire was sadly deflated. Ryan opened the truck.

"There's the spare," Ryan announced triumphantly.

"And the jack?" Taylor asked.

"Right here," he said, pointed to a black metal object.

"How does it work?" I asked.

He shrugged. "You just put it under the tire."

Ten minutes later we were standing there starting at the flat tire, glaring at the jack, and trying to remember exactly how it worked.

"Do I hear a car?" Taylor asked, suddenly spinning around.

Sure enough, a black car was heading toward us.

"Let's see if the driver will stop and help us," Taylor kinda whined.

"We don't know who it is," I reminded her. "You don't stop people on a country road."

But the car began to slow.

"M-Maybe we should get in the car," Ryan stammered.

The car stopped.

"And lock the doors," Taylor suggested.

The driver of the car opened his door, and Troy Bolton hopped out.

Troy Bolton! What was he doing out here? Why was he suddenly everywhere I was lately? It was almost like he was following me or something.

Yeah, right. That would be the day.

And why was my heart suddenly pounding and my hands growing sweaty?

"Hey, you guys got a problem?" he asked.

"Nothing we can't handle," I assured him.

"But we're not handling it," Taylor whispered to me.

"We don't need Mr. Cool's help," I whispered back.

Troy leaned against the hood of his car and folded his arms across his chest. He wasn't wearing his usual leather jacket, so his black T-shirt kinda stretched across his shoulders. Ryan dropped to his knees and began tinkering with the jack.

Troy shoved himself away from the car and sauntered over. Sauntered. That's the only way to described the slow, lazy walk he had . . . like he expected the world to wait for his arrival.

"You brains may know calculus," Troy said, "but it looks like you don't have a clue how to fix a flat. Move aside Ryan."

Ryan skittered out of the way like a crab on the beach. I was more convinced then ever that Troy was the go-between. I wondered if he'd threatened Ryan with those muscles of his that bunched and knotted up as he crouched beside the flat tire, set the jack into place, and began pumping it up. He really needed to but his T-shirts in a larger size, I thought grumpily as I watched the seams strain to stay together. I angled my head. Or maybe not.

I'd never been one for gawking at guys, but I had to admit that Troy made me rethink the merits of that activity. I tried to imagine Jason coming to our resuce, kneeling down in his crisp blue shirt-today he'd worn blue, my favorite color for him because it brought out the brown in his eyes.

Maybe Jason would grow hot working and he'd remove his shirt to cool down. Beneath that would be a white T-shirt that he muscles would ripple against. Then he would turn his head slightly and give me one of his amazingly gorgeous grins and say-

"Gabriella, help me."

I snapped out of my daydream. It wasn't Jason looking up at me, but Troy.

"Help you?" I squeaked.

That killer smile of his grew. "Yeah. Help me."

I swallowed hard. "Like how?"

Troy held out his hand. "Hold these for me."

Not wanting him to see the sweat that popped onto my palms every time he spoke to me, I wiped my hand on my jeans. "Sure."

His fingers skimmed over my palm as he dropped the nuts into place. His fingertips were a little roughened, like he spent a lot of time outside. His hands looked really strong. I thought of those guys who cracked nuts open with their bare hands-which Troy probably did. Since we had absolutely zero classes together, I was fairly certain he didn't spend time cracking open books.

But he definitely knew the ins and outs of changing a tire.

In on time at all Taylor, Ryan, and I were back in the car and on our way to the animal shelter. We thanked him and zoomed away so fast, you'd think were headed to the announcement of winners of the science fair.

"I can't believe Troy actually stopped to help," Taylor mused.

Neither could I. Nor could I believe he was following us. "Wonder what he's doing on this road?" I muttered.

"Probably checking out the latest, hottest make-out spot," Taylor announced.

Probably so. I wondered if Jason had a favorite make-out spot. If he would ever ask me to go there with him. If he did, would I go?

Ryan pulled into the shelter's parking lot, and I had to put my romantic musings on hold. The animals needed my undivided attention.

I hopped out of the car just as Troy brought his black Mustang to a semi screeching halt beside me. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Ryan and Taylor hurry into the shelter. We were late, but I figured Ryan's haste was due more to the guy getting out of the car than our tardiness.

Troy slammed his door closed and gave me a you-are-so-lucky-that-I-inhabit-your-world grin.

He rocked to a stop as if I'd just punched him.

I planted my hands on my hips. "Are you here to hassle Ryan?"

"Hey, I just fixed his flat-"

"Yeah, after stealing his homework," I accused him.

He held his hands out like someone warding off a monster. "Hey, that was Chad, not me."

"You just went into the janitor's closet to look for some soap?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "I went in as a friend following a friend, but I had no idea that he was going to demand that Ryan hand over his homework." He held his hands up this time, like a criminal caught with the goods. "Honestly. But not that I know what's going on . . . I think it's very uncool."

"And you want a medal for that?" I asked sort of meanly. I tromped up the steps to the shelter. What a jerk!


	6. Troy 3

An: Guys I'm so sorry for this chapter taking so extremely long. I had a really bad case of writers block and I just couldn't get it to turn out right. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and alerted it. This chapter is really long to make up for the lack of updating. I'm going to try and get another chapter out in the next few days.

Chapter Five.

Troy's POV

Troy.

To know someone, you must look below the surface.

Okay, now what? Standing in the parking lot, arms folded across my chest, I simply didn't get it. It wasn't cool for Chad to steal the nerds homework, I had admitted it, so why was she being so attitudy to me? Do I want a medal?

Okay, I sort of got that I deserved her smart comment, maybe even the way she glared at me, but still . . .

What I didn't get, what I completely couldn't understand was why I had absolutely no effect on this girl. I glanced at my car. Getting in and driving off into the sunset was so totally appealing. Unfortunately my dad taught me that you never retreat.

So with a heavy sigh I trudged up the stairs into the animal shelter. The reception area was empty, not that there was anything here that anyone would want to steal. Pictures of dogs dotted the walls, and there were some wanted posters, rewards being offered for lost pets.

I could hear dogs barking down a corridor to my right, so I sauntered toward it. It let to the outside, where a bunch of cages lined up side by side. Not exactly cages. Very small fenced in areas. Inside several were dogs. Every kind of dog imaginable.

And the mutts were making such a ruckus that the din was almost unbearable. Dogs of all sizes were jumping on the metal fence, barking for attention as if their lives depended on it. A few whined. Some even just lay in the corners, curled up into a furry ball. They looked sad. I shook my head. I wasn't here to worry about some dog.

I spotted Gabriella at the far end of the kennel, talking with a tall man, probably the director of the place. I sauntered toward them, trying to remain cool. I shoved my hands in the pocket of my jeans to stop them from reaching out to touch a black nose that was poking through an opening in the wire fence. That would be really uncool-to be seen getting down and playing with a mangy mutt. Still, it was really hard to ignore them.

I watched Gabriella slip a leash onto a German shepherd's collar and lead him out of the pen. All right! My brain kicked into strategy mode. "Hey!" I called out ina companionable sort of way.

The guy turned, and Gabriella stepped back, her big eyes blinking behind those glasses of hers.

"I'm John Logon," the man said. "Director of the shelter. What can we do for you?"

You can help me figure out why Gabriella is not into me, I thought. "I'm, uh, considering adopting a dog or maybe just volunteering."

Mr. Logon's face lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree. Gabriella didn't look so pleased. As a matter of fact, she looked downright suspicious.

"Excellent idea," Mr. Logon enthused. "Gabriella is one of our most experienced volunteers. Gabriella, why don't you show him where we walk the dogs and explain a few of the rules?"

"Sure," she replied flatly. "Come on. I'll show you how to test them out."

I fell into step beside her as she went through a gate that put us on a path that led to the road. "Was test them out the wrong thing to say?" I asked.

"Makes them sound like cars. Objects. They're animals."

Well, duh, I knew they were animals. We came to a halt as the dog made a pit stop. Then it started up again at a pretty fast clip. Gabriella didn't seem to mind. As a matter of fact, she really seemed to be enjoying it.

Her lips were curving slightly as if she might be daydreaming. I could see where walking a dog would be good for that. Something about the activity was totally relaxing. Maybe because the dog didn't yammer away. But then, neither did Gabriella.k

She'd pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail that trailed between her shoulder blades. Usually she wore it loose, and I realized it kinda reminded me of the shiny coat on one of the black Labs I'd spotted back at the kennel. Her clothes today weren't as flashy or as loose. As a matter of fact, she almost looked downright . . . well, appealing as the mutt tugged her along.

I was hoping she'd talk, give me a hint as to the reason she didn't want to go to the dance with me. But obviously fixing a flat didn't erase a trip into the janitor's closet with her best friend.

I figured that I needed to ease my wya into talking about the dance since she still seemed more then perturbed at me. Besides, I wasn't exactly sure how to begin the conversation.

Girls had a tendency to talk to me nonstop, yammering away about anything and everything. As a matter of fact, I'd gotten pretty good at looking like I was paying a great deal of attention to everything they said when in fact it was all flying right over the top of my head.

The girls I had dated tended to talk about . . . well, things that I really couldn't have cared less about. Somebody else's breakup, a girl who had worn the same outfit to school on the same day as the girl I was with, what a hot guy Justin Timberlake was. Trust me, guys do not like to hear how hot another guys is even if he doesn't attend your high school and is paid to sing with 'NSYNC.

As callous as it might sound, sometimes I wanted to slip them some change and suggest they call someone who cared. I mean, I enjoyed having them around, but the nonstop patter could get to me.

I couldn't imagine Gabriella talking nonstop. I couldn't imagine her talking much at all. What I found strange was how much I wanted her to talk.

I was interested in what she did at the shelter. I'd always thought PAL was for the brainy kids who wanted to run for student-council president, but apparently alot of it was about helping others.

She didn't say anything, didn't look at me, even. Just kept staring at the dog, which was sniffing around every tree and bush we passed.

We arrived back at the shelter sooner then I'd expected us to. I was still no closer to discovering why she wouldn't go to the dance with me or figuring out how to entice her into going.

She put the dog into the cage he'd come out of, slipped off the leash, and closed the door. "That's how it's done," she said finally. She started to walk away.

"Wait!" The dogs were barking and whining, and I could hardly think. "Maybe I could walk one while you're walking one. Just to make sure I do it right." Man, if that didn't make me sound like a loser. I mean, how hard could it be to walk a dog, but I'd blown my chance to talk with her while we were surrounded by the quiet. A person absolutely couldn't talk in the environment, where dogs were throwing themselves against the fence.

"Okay. I'll get another leash and find a couple of dogs that still need to be walked," she offered.

All right! I had expected her to turn me down flat. Like she had every other time I'd asked her to do something with me. Maybe she would relax a little more with me walking a dog as well. That would make us more equal. Before, we were kind of in student-instructor mode.

I crouched in front of the German shepherd. "Hey, buddy," I whispered. "I'm gonna get to the root of the problem this go-around. Yes, sir" The shepherd actually looked like he knew what I was saying. "You ever have girl troubles?" He was bobbing his head. "Yeah, I can imagine. But this is a new experience for me, and I gotta be straight with you, bud, I don't much like it."

"Here you go," Gabriella said.

I shot up and immediately adopted my nonchalant stance. It was embarrassing to be caught actually talking to a dog. Gabriella was extending a leash toward me. I followed the line from her hand down to . . . a little white fur ball that was bouncing and yipping. A total geek of a dog. I couldn't believe it.

I just kinda looked at her like she'd lost her mind somewhere between the German shepherd and getting the leash. "Isn't there a bigger dog to walk?" I asked.

"Nope. These are the last two. Ryan and Taylor walked the other," she told me. The ball of fluff she intended to walk wasn't much of an improvement over the one she was offering me.

This dare was really losing its appeal as I took Yippy's leash and hoped no one I knew would spot me. Obviously Yippy didn't realize he was a runt because he tossed up his head and strutted outside.

I glanced over at Gabriella. She wasn't looking quite as relaxed as she had been before, so I figured that she probably wasn't totally comfortable around me yet. I needed to loosen her up a little bit if I wanted to figure out why she didn't want to go to the dance with me.

"Tell me this isn't the kind of dog you see me with," I prodded gently.

"What kind of dog do you see yourself with?" she asked as we headed farther away from the shelter.

"Uh, you know . . . just some big dumb, mutt," I answered vaguely. I mean, I really wasn't in the market for a dog. It was just a ploy to spend time with her and figure her out.

She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes as if I'd insulted her. "Mutts aren't dumb."

I chuckled. She obviously thought I'd insulted dogs. "What? Did you give them an IQ test or something?"

"No, but researchers have. Not a standard IQ test of course, because dogs can't read or write, but studies indicate that dogs that aren't bred for looks or for show-which a mutt obviously isn't-tend to be smarter."

I was taken aback by her response. "No kidding?"

"No kidding."

"How come?" I asked, wondering why it had to be an either-or situation.

"Well, people who are obsessed with the way things look don't necessarily care about how smart the creatures are," she explained with a pointed glare at me as if I fit into that category.

Okay, I hated to admit that her explanation kinda applied to me. I mean, my initial attraction to a girl usually happened two seconds after I saw her, way before she ever spoke and long before I discovered what kind of grades she made. As a matter of fact, studious wasn't even on my list of things that I liked about girls. Hair, eyes, lips, the way she wore her clothes . . . man, I suddenly felt kind of shallow.

"So," she continued, "when they're matching genes to get a beautiful dog, they might have to a lot of inbreeding, and as a result they get some dumb dogs. But since a 'mutt' isn't a purebred, it hasn't lost its smart genes."

But I sure felt like I'd lost mine. "How do you know all this?"

She shrugged. "I read a lot."

"So Yippy here-"

"Yippy?" she interrupted, raising a brow in surprise. Her brown eyes sparkled, and her lips curled up in what could almost pass as a smile.

Still, I couldn't believe I'd revealed the temporary name I'd given this ball of fur. "A dog's gotta have a name," I informed her. "I can't just go around calling him 'dog'."

"Her," Gabriella corrected me.

"What?" I looked down at the fluff ball, trying to catch a glimpse beneath its tail.

"The dog you're walking is a girl."

A total geek of a dog. If I had a dog, I'd want a Bruiser or a Spike. A manly dog. "Whatever," I said trying not to let it show that I was bothered by this pip-squeak of an animal that had yet to shut its yap. "So the mutt here is smart?"

I could see Gabriella fighting not to smile fully, and I wondered why wouldn't release that grin. Then she zinged me with it.

"She's leading you around, isn't she?"

That evening at home I was dipping fried chicken strips into creamy gravy and fries into think ketchup. My dad sat across from me, doing pretty much the same thing.

Tuesday was chicken night, but every night was takeout. As my dad would say, that was the advantages to being a bachelor. You could eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Which we pretty much did.

My dad and I were fairly tight, much tighter then Chad and his dad, but that was probably because Dad and I only had each other. I could tell him pretty much anything. He'd always been a great sounding board.

After all, he was a marine. And like all marines, he was really tough. He hadn't even seemed too upset when my mom ran off five years ago.

I mean, he got angry, no doubt about that. But he didn't, like, cry or anything. He was the coolest guy, definitely.

It was important to him that I was tough too. Which was the reason that I never passed on a dare or deserted my buds in their times of need. I mean, marines did not-ever, for any reason-leave their dead or wounded comrades behind. That was the main reason I was slumming in the cafeteria this month. Zeke was a bud in need.

Ironically, it was also the reason that I was in my current predicament. I mean, if we hadn't been in the cafeteria when the guys had issued their dare, they never would have spotted Gabriella. She was permanently cafeteria bound, and her shadow never would have crossed the door of Hamburger Haven at noon. But I'd been in the car and so had she, and the rest, as they say, was history.

I couldn't believe how she'd zinged me this afternoon. Or how I'd felt about it. Actually impressed. As a rule, girls never insulted me, not even subtly. All I ever heard were compliments, as if I could do no wrong. As if I was perfect. I had began to think I was. Gabriella obviously had no such delusions about me.

I lifted my fry out of the ketchup. It was looking pretty limp. I must have dunked it a hundred times while I pondered my current no-win situation. Convince a girl-who seemed not to realize that she was supposed to be grateful for my attention-to go the dance with me. Or concede the dare. Convincing the girl was the only honorable way to go here.

But I needed some serious advice. I shifted in my chair. "Dad, you know how the guys and I are always daring each other to do things?"

He arch a dark brow. "Or not to do things. Like last summer when you dared each other to not mow the yard."

I winced. I'd lost that dare hands down. My dad sorta had this thing about responsibility-which was inconsistent with the fact that he'd married a women who wasn't responsible enough to stand by her man, as the country-western song went. I tried not to resent the fact that my mom had decided to pursue her dreams away from us-I didn't even know what the dreams were-but sometimes it hurt if I thought about it too much.

And hurting was a definate sign that you weren't tough, which was the main reason that I had decided I would never let myself get into that position like my dad had. I was never going to "fall" for a babe. You know, head over heels, let her wrap me around her little finger kind of fall. Never. No way.

"Or last month when you dared each other not to fill up the gas tank until the last conceivable moment," he added.

My mouth twitched just a little at that one. We still couldn't decide if Chad running out of gas and having to walk six miles to a gas station meant that he'd won the dare or lost it.

I tossed the limp fry aside, picked up a crisp one, shoved it into my mouth, and talked around it. "Well this is a do-something dare. The guys dared me to take a geek to the dance this Saturday."

My dad did something totally unexpected. He grinned with understanding. "My friends and I issued a dare like that back in the service. The one who brought the ugliest girl to a dance won and got the next night's partying paid for."

"Who won?" I asked.

Dad shook his head. "We never could decide."

"Well, for this particular dare, Chad and Zeke selected the girl that I had to ask." I picked up another fry and studied its perfection.

"You're hesitant to ask her?" he prodded, trying to get the root of my dilemma.

I tossed the fry aside, my appetite suddenly lost. After shoving my plate forward, I planted my elbows on the table and leaned toward him. "Uh, I didn't have any problem asking." I shook my head, still unable to believe what happened. "She said no."

Dad smiled again.

"I can't figure Gabriella out," I confessed. "She's not dating anyone, has no date to the dance, but still won't go with me. Me. Makes no sense. Why would a nerdy, not-hot girl not want to go out with one of the coolest guys in school?"

"It took me years to figure out the answer to that question," he said in a fatherly tone that he seldom used. Usually we were just two buds carrying on a conversation. He patted my shoulder. "You're gonna have to figure it out on your own."

He picked up the cardboard box that contained his dinner and headed into the kitchen.

Huh? That was it? That was his advice? Figure it out?

I'd been trying to do that ever since she said no. And I wasn't any closer to an answer.

Leaning against my black Mustang the next morning, I waited outside Gabriella's house. If Mohammad wouldn't go the the mountain, I'd bring the mountain to Mohammad.

I kept thinking about Dad's uncharacteristic Buddha answer. I didn't have years to figure out why Gabriella wouldn't go to the dance with me. I was down to days, hours, minutes.

I could always hope my appendix would burst so I'd have a good excuse to get out of this dare. but failing that, I had to persevere.

I straightened as the door to the Montez's house opened. Gabriella rushed out like she still had that big German shepherd on a leash dragging her toward his favorite bush.

Halfway down the walk she staggered to a stop, her eyes doing that cute blink that I figured out meant she didn't believe what she was seeing.

"I'm giving you a ride to school," I announced.

She got that belligerent look on her face, the one she'd used when she asked if I thought I deserved a medal. My stomach tightened. Please don't give me a flat-out no.

"Don't you ever ask?" she questioned.

All of a sudden it was if a light bulb went off in my mind. I gave myself a mental slap on the side of my head. I hadn't asked her to the dance. I'd told her we were going. So maybe she had a thing about etiquette.

"Is that the reason you won't go the dance with me?" I inquired, trying not to sound like it was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard. Insulting a girl you were trying to impress was not cool. "Because I didn't ask? All right. I'm asking."

She pursed her lips together and glared at me so intently that I shifted my stance. Okay, so that wasn't the secret to getting her to go.

But there was a secret to getting her to go. It's just that it was locked deep inside her, and she didn't seem to be willing to give me the key. Any other babe would have not only slipped the key into the lock and turned it, but she would have swung the door wide open.

"Why do you want me to go to the dance with you?" she demanded.

She sounded seriously irritated. Didn't she realize an invitation from Troy Bolton was an honor any girl with a lick of sense would be thrilled to receive? And what was I supposed to say to her question? Admit that I wanted to take her because of the dare? Like that information was going to make the icy wall around her melt. So I did what any self-respecting dude under pressure to win a dare would do. I lied.

"I think it would be cool to go out with a smart girl for once." Funny how actually saying it didn't make it feel like so much like a lie. I didn't mention that I thought she was pretty, which was, um, kind of true. I mean, I never would have noticed before, but now that I'd been hanging around her, I had noticed. She was pretty. Especially when she had blushed the way she was blushing now.

Her cheeks turned a soft pink, and her dark eyes got all kind of . . . I don't know, warm looking. It reminded me of how I'd felt when Dad and I went skiing last winter and we'd sat in front of this big, roaring fire at the ski lodge. Cozy.

Finally her mouth blossomed into this smile that literally almost knocked me off my feet. Man, where had she been hiding that?

"Thanks," she said quietly.

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. "So you want a ride to school?" I gave myself extra points for phrasing my request as a question. Before Gabriella, all I'd required were two words: hop in. And I'd have a babe sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

She kinda glanced around like maybe she was looking for the answer. Then she did this cute little shrug. "Okay."

Yes! Inwardly I gave myself a high five-something I didn't even do with my buds any-more because we'd decided it was totally uncool to exhibit any type of emotional outburst. Low-key, uncaring, that was epitome of cool, I reminded myself as I sauntered around to my side of the car while Gabriella slid into the passenger seat.

Once I was behind the wheel, I glanced over at her. She was concentrating on the windshield as if she was trying to figure out what creature had splattered there. "So will you go to the dance with me" I asked, carefully phrasing the question in a way that I figured she couldn't find fault with.

"I still can't go," she replied.

My mouth actually dropped open. What did she want me to do? Drop down on one knee?

Then she gave me this incredible endearing smile. "Sorry, but given the fact that there are hundreds of girls who'd say yes, I don't feel that bad about it."

She laughed then, a sound that could only be described as merriment. I must have gotten that word from The Canterbury Tales because it sounded too old-fashioned.

I smiled at her as I started the car. But I still didn't get it. Why wouldn't she go with me? Obviously she realized that girls did want to go with me. She seemed to be warming up to me, so what was the deal?

"Which dog did you decide on?" she asked suddenly.

The more time I spent with her, the more I realized that she wasn't really that geeky. I mean, yeah, she was smart. She didn't stand out in a crowd. But there was something special about her, something that made you want to know her a little better.

Her eyes sparkled. "Yippy seemed to like you."

Yippy? "Um . . . yeah, I think she might have taken an interest in me, but I decided long ago to never let a girl wrap me around her little finger. Or in this case, paw. And as you pointed out, she was definitely leading me around."

Her lips curled up in this quirky little smile that was shy while at the same time triumphant. "There's a site on the Internet where you can take a pet-compatibility test," she offered.

"A what?" Was she serious?

"Compatibility test. Adopting a pet is a big responsibility that a lot of people don't take seriously. That's the reason we have homeless animals. People get a pet, thinking that they're acquiring a best friend, only what they're getting is a child. Some people aren't meant to be parents."

Like my mom, I thought bitterly.

"So they get rid of the pets. But this site asks you questions and, based on your answers, it tells you what kind of pet is best suited to your expectations," she explained.

"No kidding. So what kind of pet do you have?" I asked, figuring she knew about the site because she'd taken the test-and probably aced it.

"We don't have any pets." I heard the disappointment in her voice.

"How come? You seemed to be a natural when it came to handling the dogs yesterday," I offered. She had been.

"My mom took the test," she said sullenly.

"And?" I prodded.

"Ants," she replied.

I laughed. "Ants?"

She nodded, that quirky smile of hers beginning again and growing. "The best pet for my mom is ants."

"Why would anyone wants ants as a pet?" I demanded to know.

"Because they're cheap."

Shaking my head, I continued to chuckle. "What about you? What kind of pet is best for you?

"Any kind." She turned her gaze toward the window as if she realized she'd actually been talking to me and was somehow embarrassed by the fact.

I just didn't get Gabriella. She was so totally not what I'd expected. We drove the rest of the way to school in silence that wasn't altogether umcomfortable.

But I was grateful for it because it gave me a chance to ponder what the secret was to getting her to go with me. I figured it was probably something as off the wall as she was.

I pulled into the school parking lot, turned off the car, and opened my door to get out. I didn't hear Gabriella open her door. I glanced over at her.

She just sat there, frozen in place, a dreamlike expression on her face. I followed her gaze to Jason Cross, struggling up the walk with two backpacks slung over his shoulders. I guess he took every book in his locker home at night. The guy was a major geek.

I darted my gaze between Jason and Gabriella. Geek and geekette.

So that was it! She liked someone else. Someone more her own type.

Why did I feel so terribly disappointed? It was weird. I felt like I wasn't good enough to be liked by her or something. Did that make sense?


	7. Gabriella 3

Author's note. Let me apologize for how long this chapter took me. We moved & my computer got broke in the process so I had to wait for them to fix mine and send it back. But I wrote an amazing chapter to make up for it. Please review and let me know what you think

Chapter Six.

Gabriella.

Be wary of wishing, for the wish may come true.

"You like that geek? Troy asked me.

I glared at him as hard as I could, a sort of if-looks-could-maim kind of stare. Had I actually engaged in a semi casual conversation with this guy for a few minutes? What had I been thinking?

"Jason is not a geek," I informed him tersely. "Thanks for the ride."

I shoved open the door to his car, scrambled out, and started walking quickly toward my first class. How could I forget how people of his ilk-cool-viewed the rest of us uncools?

"Hey, wait up," he called after me.

Was he insane? Did he think he could possibly say anything about Jason that I cared to hear?

Was I insane? What had I been thinking, to get into the car with him and risk exposing myself to a guy who thought the sun came up just so it could shine on him? To initiate a conversation-that floored me. Why couldn't I do that with Jason? It really wasn't that hard. Just start with a question that could lead into a topic that you knew something about.

I heard Troy's pounding footsteps and quickened my pace, but my legs were short, and his were so incredibly long.

"I can't believe Jason is your crush," he said as he fell into step beside me.

"That's not true," I lied, wondering how long it would take the gossip to spread if he told anyone. He would only have to tell one person. It was like from Troy's mouth to ever ear at East High. "I simply admire Jason," I added, whispering harshly, hoping he'd back off or, failing that, get suspended until I graduated.

Jason was still struggling with his backpacks as we passed him. As usual, he didn't even notice me. Monday, I'd worn a brightly colored yellow-and-green outfit so I could stand out, and nothing. Nada.

I might as well have been dressed in boring black like Troy. Except that Troy's black wasn't exactly boring. Intriguing was more the word. It made him look dangerous. And amazingly hot.

Which brought my mind reeling back to a million-dollar question. What was Troy doing walking beside me? He'd brought me to school. He should have sauntered away in that lazy way of his; only it wasn't so lazy now as he tried to keep up with my brisk pace.

"Maybe you didn't notice, but nerd boy doesn't even seem to know you exist," he brought to my attention.

Oh, I noticed every day. I marched on without deigning his remark worth commenting on. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Troy had really hit the mark with his comment. I'd never gotten up the courage to even speak to Jason. Not a hi, a how are you, a what's happening. We had classes together. We obviously had things in common. Why couldn't my brain that knew so many facts find one thing of interest to say to Jason?

"Hey," Troy said softly, as if he'd actlayy noticed I was upset, noticed something outside his cool world. "Despite what everyone may think, I do know how it feels to like someone who isn't interested in you."

Yeah, right! If he was crushing on Britney Spears, maybe. But even then I found his statement pretty difficult to believe as I rounded a corner. All the beautiful girls at East High spoke to Troy Bolton. Told him how wonderful he was. If they weren't using their voices, they were using their eyelashes. I often wondered if the constant, rapid batting of their eye lashes gave them a clear idea of what it was like to view the world from behind a strobe light.

"I'll make you a deal," he offered me quietly. "I want you to go to the dance with me because I want to prove to myself that a brainiac girl would go out with me, that I can show a brain a good time. And if you say yes, I'll show you how to attract Jason to the point that Jason will definitely ask you out."

I stopped dead in my tracks and swung around to face him. Dare I believe he possessed the power to grant my fondest wish? I just didn't quite trust him. NOt only his lame excuse for wanting me to go to the dance with him-after all, I was smart, but I wasn't the only girl at East who actually understood what a textbook was for-but also his willingness to help. And even if I did trust him, how could he possibly guarantee that Jason would not only notice me, but ask me out as well?

"How are you going to do that?" I demanded. I envisioned him hauling Jason into the janitor's closest and strong-arming him into submission.

He gave me that charming smile that weakened my knees. "That's my secret."

Looking almost innocent standing there, he actually appeared . . . hopeful.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Jason, and my heart did its usual little flip-kinda like diving off the high board into a deep waters. Against my better judgement, I was actually considering taking Troy up on his offer. But I couldn't. It seemed sorta like a betrayal to myself, a betrayal to Jason, and most of all, a betrayal to Troy.

I shook my head. "Troy, I can't. I mean, I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you." It just didn't seem right to go to a dance with a guy that you didn't like. A guy who was so not right for you. A guy who you were so not right for. Other than a ability to discuss dogs, we had nothing in common.

"Hey, you're not taking advantage. Just call me your fairy god-brother," he insisted.

I almost laughed at the thought of him waving a wand around. Almost. If he could get me a date with Jason, well, he'd be granting my deepest wish. But at what cost? Why did I have a feeling in the deepest recesses of my soul that I was going to regret this?

I sighed deeply. I never took chances. I never went where I'd gone before. But here was an opportunity to do as my fortune had suggested-to reach out and touch a star. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"Okay," I reluctantly agreed. "You've got a deal."

If Troy wanted to go to the dance with a nerdy brain, fine. Though I seriously doubted the guy could show me a good time.

On my way to lunch I spotted Ryan heading into the libary. Not again.

Quickening my pace, I caught up with him and grabbedd his arm. He flinched like he'd expected me to be one of his tormentors.

Then he laughed self-consciously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Gabi, it's you."

"Did Chad steal your homework again?" I asked.

"Yeah, but that's okay. Last night I scanned my homework, so now I Just have to write it out so it doesn't like like it's a copy," he explained, a sad kind of smile on his face like he was hoping I would praise him for his quick thinking.

"Enough is enough, Ryan. Since this creep keeps taking your chemistry homework and we have chemistry together, I want you to start giving me your homework first thing in the morning. I'll keep it safe until class."

"Ah, Gabi, I don't want to trouble you," he said.

"It's no trouble, Ryan," I assured him. "Besides, that's what friends are for."

"How about if I drop it by your house this evening? I don't want Chad to see me passing if off to you. He might try to take it from you," he told me.

And I had absolutely no desire to spend even a nanosecond in the janitor's closest with Chad. "Sure, bring it by anytime."

"Thanks, Gabi, you're the best." He went into the library.

I sighed deeply. I didn't feel like the best. If I was the best, I'd confront the jerk talking his homework. But if I did that and still couldn't stop him from taking Ryan's homework, he might figure out who Ryan was giving it to.

Why couldn't life at East High be simple?

As simple as the tuna surprise adorning my tray in the cafeteria. Taylor was sitting beside me, thumbing through her magazine. I was trying to come up with some more fortunes to share with Mama Ling, but all I could think about was Troy's incredible offer. What had I been thinking to accept?

I mean, really, what could the guy do to get Jason to notice me? Skywriting? Take out an ad in the East Rag?

Why would he even want to help me out? I still didn't quite trust his asking me to the dance.

"Seventeen has a test you can take to see if you're ready to make out," Taylor informed me as she turned a page in her current issue.

"Taylor, if you have to take a test to know, then you're definitely not ready," I informed her.

"I guess you'd make out with Jason if he asked," she mused.

"I might consider it if we were going steady," I admitted.

She lifter her gaze from the magazine and held mine. "Course, that's never gonna happen if you don't ever talk to him."

I pushed my tray forward, places my elbows on the table, and leaned toward her slightly in a move that meant I was about to impart something of great significance. "Actually, it might happen."

My heart started thundering with the thought, the possibilities. Jason and I studying together. Jason and I sharing test scores. Jason and I walking the halls together, holding hands. Gazing into his incredible blue eyes. Him gazing into mine.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Taking a deep breath, before I lost the courage to tell her, I blurted, "Troy offered to get me a date with Jason if I would go to the dance with him this Saturday."

Her eyes got big and round. "He what?"

I shrugged haplessly. "I know. I was stunned when he offered."

She narrowed her eyes in thought. "Why would he bother to offer?"

"He wants to take a smart girl to the dance and prove to himself that he can show her a good time." Even as I repeated his reasoning, I thought it sounded a little lame. Taylor apparently thought it sounded way lame.

"Why his sudden desire to date a smart?" she asked. "The combined IQ of every girl he's ever dated doesn't equal yours. What gives?"

"Maybe he's just bored," I suggested.

"Bored with all the girls at this school fawning over him? I don't think so. There has to be more to it than that." She closed the magazine and gave me her undivided attention as if past two seconds I'd divined his true reasons.

"Maybe he likes me?" I offered lamely.

"You shot that idea down before," Taylor shook her head. "I don't know, Gabi. It's a little weird. Whatever his reason, I'm not so sure your going with him is such a good idea."

She help up her hand in a typical Taylor fashion, and I knew she was going to tick off the reasons.

She tapped her index finger. "Number one. Going to the dance with Troy might make Jason think you have a boyfriend."

"But after the dance Jason with never see me and Troy together again. Besides, Troy promised me that Jason would ask me out, so obviously his plan will ensure that Jason understands that Troy and I aren't an item," I explained. It seemed so convoluted, though, when I said it.

Taylor still looked unconvinced. She tapped her next finger. "Okay. Now for number two. What if you start to like Troy?"

I laughed. "No way am I going to start liking Troy Bolton. He's so . . . so domineering, and he has the manners of Jabba the Hutt." Okay, maybe he had stopped to help us out yesterday, but that was probably his feeble attempt to make amends with Ryan. "Besides, he thinks he's East High's gift to girls."

"He is hot ot look at," Taylor admitted.

"Only in a superficial kind of way," I assured her. "I could never go for someone who thought the cover was the only part of the book that mattered."

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Troy suddenly dropped onto the bench beside me, straddling it so I had to twist around to look at him.

"Hey, I need you to go to the computer store after school to help me buy a computer," he told me in a typical Troy style as if I had no social calendar to speak of.

Okay, so maybe I didn't, but still I did have a life . . . and curiosity. "Why?"

"Because nerd boy works at Disk Us." With a satisfied grin he grabbed the cookie off my tray and sauntered away.

My heart was thundering. Troy was really going to do it. He was going to get Jason to notice me.

Previews for chapter seven.

"You're supposed to make Jason notice me, not embarrass me!" she cried.

"Hey! I was making Jason notice you!"

"By saying you're interested in me when that's such an absolute lie?" she shouted, her hands planted on those narrow hips of hers.


End file.
